Hostage
by JadeAndKate
Summary: *implied slash* There's no easy way out of some situations. Kevin Nash, Scott Hall


Hostage - Kate  
PG13 - implied m/m slash, language  
Characters: Kevin Nash/Scott Hall, Brian (BG) James  
Summary: There's no easy way out of some situations.  
Disclaimer: We own neither the characters nor the individuals who portray them. Written soley for our own enjoyment.

hr

"Kevin, come on. Take a deep breath, man."

"I don't want a deep breath," Kevin Nash snapped, storming down the hallway toward his locker room. "I want him out of here."

"I know you do," BG James sighed, grabbing Kevin's sleeve in an effort to slow him down. "But think about it. When's the last time you and Scott saw each other?"

"That's exactly my point. He disappears on me for months on end, won't return phone calls, then shows up at my work drunk off his ass and wrecks my match?"

"He didn't wreck your match, he just--"

"He absolutely did, Brian! He fucking milked the crowd into paying attention to him instead of the story Joe and I were trying to tell. He's lucky Joe agreed to let me talk to him first; Joe's ready to tear a new hole in his ass."

"And you think he cares?" BG asked incredulously. "Scott couldn't give two shits what Samoa Joe thinks of him. But he loves you, man, and you're going to break his heart if you yell at him like this."

"I'm not yelling!" BG simply raised his eyebrows, and Kevin sighed, running a hand through his hair. "All right. Fine, I'll cool it. But I still want him to leave."

"Do what you've gotta do," BG shrugged, stopping outside Kevin's door. "But keep it down. And I'll be back in 10 minutes or so, just in case you need help hiding the body."

"Thanks, Bri." Kevin pulled in one more calming breath before entering his room.

The door swung shut behind him with a click made loud by the room's silent tension. Scott Hall sat motionless on a metal folding chair near the back of the space, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. For a moment, Kevin didn't think Scott even noticed he was no longer alone.

"You're mad, aren't you?" Scott asked suddenly, lifting his head to look at Kevin.

Kevin nodded stiffly, not wanting to get caught up in one of Scott's drunken pity-fests.

"I don't know why, but I'm sorry. I'm sure it was somehow my fault."

Kevin refused to reassure him, his anger flaring again at the slight slur in Scott's voice. "You fucked up my match."

"It was good," Scott protested, confused. "How did I fuck it up?"

"You distracted the crowd."

"I didn't--"

"You did."

Scott sighed, dropping his head again. "Either way, it was good. You looked really good out there."

Kevin felt his annoyance drain away as he stared at Scott. It _had_ been a long time, and he didn't really want to argue. Still, this was not the time or place. "You're drunk," he stated quietly.

"I wanted to see you."

"You should go home. I'll call you after the show, OK?"

"I missed you."

Kevin sighed. "I missed you, too. Where've you been, Scotty?"

Scott shrugged. "Around. You know."

"Yeah." Kevin _did_ know, unfortunately. Scott's sporadic disappearances had been the subject of more than one fight between them already.

"Rehab sucked, so I checked myself out," Scott added, answering the unasked question without lifting his eyes from the ground.

"Sorry to hear that. Next time I'll be sure to book you a seat on the luxury cruise rehab ship."

"Fuck off," Scott growled. "You have no idea what it was like."

"No, actually, I don't," Kevin agreed. "Because every time I try to get you some help, you run away. You stop answering your phone. You disappear for a year...you do realize TNA had you booked for _last_ Turning Point, right, not this one?"

"I know what year it is. I was in no shape to be here last year. Honestly, I don't even know why I came now. It sure as hell wasn't to get bitched at by the one person who's supposed to be on my side."

"Is that what I'm supposed to be?"

"I think that's the idea, yeah. People in a relationship usually expect--"

"Alcoholics don't have relationships," Kevin muttered softly. "They have hostages."

Scott's head snapped up, his mercurial dark eyes flashing with recognition and surprise before settling on suspicion. "That's a fucking AA slogan," he spat. "Where'd you hear that?"

Kevin had to struggle not to grin. At least Scott had been paying enough attention to learn the catchphrases. "I went to a meeting to talk to some of them. About you. To see if there was something I could do to help." Crossing his arms over his chest, Kevin braced himself for Scott's outburst.

It didn't come. "So what did they say?" Scott finally asked, eyes on the cheap carpet in front of him.

"A bunch of clichés, mostly," Kevin admitted. "I can see why you hate them." Scott smiled tightly, but kept his head down. "And they told me a lot of shit I already knew, but didn't want to admit."

"Like what?"

"Like how I can't help you."

"Can't or won't?" Scott demanded harshly, his voice too loud to be anything but a cover for his pain. Kevin flinched at the sound and hated himself for it.

"Both," he finally forced out. "You're too strong to let me control you. I can't make decisions for you. And Scotty, honestly, I don't want to. I want you to want this for yourself, not because of me."

"Too strong," Scott repeated skeptically. "I know a bottle of whiskey that would disagree with you there, Kev."

"So is that why AA didn't--"

"AA's a cult," Scott interrupted. "All their Higher Power bullshit pisses me off. If I'm going to work that hard to get control over alcohol, I'm sure as hell not handing it right over to some invisible fucking guy sitting on a cloud. Sorry, man, I know you buy into that shit."

Kevin shrugged. "Doesn't mean you have to."

Scott laughed shortly. "Try telling that to Shawn sometime. I had to stop answering his calls at some point."

"Shawn just likes to argue," Kevin dismissed, shifting down into a half-crouch to get eye-level with Scott and ignoring the complaints from his knees. "Babe, I know this is hard, OK? But you--"

"I can't," Scott hissed through his teeth. "OK? I _can't_. And AA can't do it for me." His ponytail whipped from side to side as he shook his head, fighting back tears. "Last meeting I went to, they had a big banner across the wall that said, 'Your best thinking got you here.' Like I needed the reminder of how fucked up my decision-making skills are."

"Scott, I think they meant it as a good thing. Because you showed up to the meeting, you know?"

"I know what it meant. I also know it was wrong. I wasn't happy there, Kev. I wasn't happy sitting at home getting drunk, I wasn't happy in bars, I wasn't happy doing indy shows...the last time I was really happy was with you. My best thinking got me to you, Kev."

Kevin shifted back onto his heels, unsure how to answer.

"Don't you miss it?" Scott pressed.

"I miss you," Kevin offered. "But Scott, we were in two different places for years while we were still together. There was a time I probably could've helped you, been there for you a little more, but no matter what you think, I can't save you now." He hesitated, then added, "I'm sorry."

Scott snorted, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "Sorry isn't helping me much, is it?"

"No. In fact, if I didn't know you were strong enough, I'd be worried."

That provoked a laugh from Scott, bitter as it was. "Big man, if I was strong enough, why the hell didn't I get clean before now?"

"Because you always had another option. You could always turn to me."

Scott's smile drained instantly, and his jaw tightened as he met Kevin's eyes. "Not anymore, huh?"

For a moment, Kevin thought the knock on the door was the sound of his heart dropping into his stomach. "Guys, you OK in there?" a familiar voice called from the hallway.

"Brian's worried about you," Kevin explained.

"Well, let him in," Scott answered, standing up and smoothing his hair back. "I should say goodbye to him, too."

Kevin nodded silently and opened the door, letting Brian squeeze past him. The smaller man made a beeline for Scott, hugging him quickly before pulling back to see his bloodshot and puffy eyes. "Taking off already?" he asked quietly, and Kevin wondered how much he could hear through that door.

Scott nodded easily, shoving his hands in his front jeans pockets as he responded. "Looks like it. I think I'm going to bounce around a while, actually. Take some time figuring out what I want to do and how I want to do it."

"Sounds nice," Brian grinned. "Planning to be back in town anytime soon? We should go out."

Scott hesitated, glancing at Kevin. "Nah, probably not for a while," he finally said. "Maybe next year or something, huh?"

"Oh, OK. Well, give me a call sometime and we'll catch up," Brian offered. "Maybe I can make it out to your place. And are you sure you don't want me to talk to TNA about booking you for--"

"Give me a year," Scott repeated, his eyes still locked on Kevin's. "After that, we'll see where we are. Maybe we can work something out. Maybe not."

Kevin nodded solemnly. Scott brushed past him on his way out the door, and he debated leaning in for a kiss, but decided to just let it go. Scott was halfway down the hall before he was able to swallow enough of the lump in his throat to speak. "Scott?"

Scott turned, and Kevin kicked himself mentally for the glimmer of hope in Scott's expression. "I just wanted to say, whether you make it back or...or not, it was good either way."

Scott froze, his body rigid for several seconds before he finally nodded. "Yeah, it was. See you in a year, Kev." Turning again, he walked out of the arena and into the cool, crisp air of the parking lot.


End file.
